


buzz

by hingabee



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: "interrogation", BDSM, Bondage, Choking, Drugs, Implied Torture, Kinbaku, M/M, Oral Sex, injections (needles), kinda dubcon but its heavily implied that its Not, questionable table sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 09:00:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16615946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hingabee/pseuds/hingabee
Summary: He tries to be mad – he really does.





	buzz

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PunishedPyotr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunishedPyotr/gifts).



> wish 53: Psycho Mantis/Ocelot
> 
> "hypnosis and bondage, it doesn’t matter who tops/who does what to whom"

“He isn’t ready to talk yet.”  
  
Mantis looks up from the desk and blinks against the dimmed lights that are uncomfortably tinted through the lenses of his mask.  
  
“We are done for today?” he asks in Russian and pushes his creaking chair back to get a better look at the scene in front of him; hanging from the ceiling and tied up like a Christmas turkey is the poor guy they have been interrogating for the past few hours, with his face all red and covered in sweat and piss that steadily drips down onto his already soiled shirt he truly makes for an intimidating display.  
  
But Mantis has already gotten used to _those_ in the brief time he has spent here.  
  
The first few months on base had been quite uneventful, he had mostly spent his time with getting used to the useless routines of a person whose individual skills do not matter, just filling out a generic role that could be done by anyone.  
  
Needless to say that Mantis got fed up by that pretty quickly.  
  
His relationship to his powers had never been defined by any kind of confidence in them, really, yet he had always liked to seek some kind of self-satisfaction in the way he managed to deal with the world around him that was so different from anything other people experienced. The older Mantis got, the more his initial fear and reluctance regarding his abilities gave way to a newfound appreciation for them which did not just show in the way he acted towards himself but also outwardly.  
  
So, despite understanding the need to break him into this new “work environment” Mantis quickly started missing the attention he had gotten for his more _special_ talents as a child – obviously his discontent with his current position did not stay a secret for long and he had been moved to the Intel team to make “better use” of his qualifications without further ado.  
  
Quite frankly he had been a tad insulted after being recruited _specifically_ for his skill set, only to be assigned a regular position whereas Liquid– of course – had immediately gotten his scrambled eggs, all nice and shiny on that stupid hat of his.  
  
Not that Mantis cares much for military ranks, anyway.  
  
“You seem preoccupied. I was going to allow you to demonstrate me some of that, ah, magic of yours I heard so much about.” Ocelot does not even turn to look at him while he methodically cleans his equipment.  
  
“What do you expect me to do with him?” Getting up from his chair, Mantis stretches and yawns theatrically. “You said he isn’t ready to talk.”  
  
“Then get him ready.”  
  
Sure, simple as that. Mantis pushes past Ocelot and into the actual interrogation chamber, not wasting any opportunity to give the old fuck a tiny psychic pinch in the side on his way.  
  
Of course the poor bastard – still suspended from the ceiling – immediately starts making as much noise as he can with his tongue so fat because of all the cut-off circulation and starts crying pathetically as Mantis approaches him.  
Reaching out mentally is easy enough and he grabs the guy’s mind and digs his fingers into it, mercilessly stroking the lines of thought and suppressed memories along the way. Already eased open by Ocelot’s… thorough preparation, Mantis plucks out strings of information bit by bit and forces them out as words; whimpered sounds spilling from their helpless victim’s lips.  
  
Having his prey this pliant and willing, practically being assaulted with the confessions of the man in front him is not something Mantis is used to. Of course he is able to get _anything_ out of anyone, but it always takes a bit of push and pull to get them ready for it – this is a new experience for him.  
  
And as much as he harbors dislike for Ocelot, he is not above acknowledging that the old man knows what he is doing, hell, could even be considered something like a master at his art.

As he carelessly drops the prisoner – now just an empty vessel of information – onto the cold hard ground, Mantis begrudgingly realises that he is _intrigued_.  
  
-  
  
“So, you want me to teach you?”  
  
Mantis sighs and rolls his eyes behind the lenses of his mask; of course Ocelot would jump the opportunity to derail his words into some submissive cry for guidance.  
  
“No.” He says and takes a step closer to where the older man is seated at his desk. “I simply want to… learn more about your field of work.”

Turning around in his chair and raising an eyebrow at Mantis, Ocelot offers him a sleazy smile.  
  
“Oh well, I take it our last session together left a lasting impression on you? Of course you’re no stranger to bending a person’s will as you see fit, but I take it you are so stuck on your boring old little tricks that a simple job like that already sufficed to peak your interest.”  
  
Mantis growls quietly and Ocelot waves his hand in a calming manner.  
  
“Now don’t be offended, I simply find it curious you come to me with this request. I assumed you did not enjoy working with me.” He shushes Mantis who is already about to interrupt him – or better – about to just turn on his heels and leave this terrible idea behind him. “But I am not entirely opposed to the idea. You do have a certain… ah, potential.”  
  
“Oh please, do you want me to hand in a written application!? Yes or no?”  
  
Ocelot gives him a thoughtful look-over and Mantis suddenly starts feeling very much self conscious – Liquid probably would not like this; as military commander he does agree that interrogation is a necessary feat, but just from personal experience holds great discomfort towards it. Mantis ponders.  
  
But Liquid is not here right now, does not even have to know about this.  
  
“Very well, I suppose it can not do much harm to introduce you a bit more further into this field.” Ocelot turns back to the papers on his desk as if to check his schedule. “Mh, but we would have to hold these private sessions outside of the regular work appointments. Is that alright with you?”  
  
For a moment Mantis hesitates but that sick curiosity in his mind keeps him from retreating and he reluctantly agrees to meet Ocelot the next evening.  
  
Walking back to the commander’s quarters he briefly wonders if he has miscalculated somehow.  
  
-  
  
“Is this really necessary? You could at least leave the lights on and stop try to blind me with that awful – ow!”  
  
Ocelot seems very much unimpressed by Mantis’ complaints and keeps on fastening his restraints.  
  
“Stop fussing around, boy. This is all part of the intimidation process. Unlike you, I can not directly walk into someone’s head to spread this wonderful feeling of terror you are experiencing right now by myself, so manipulating the environment around us to my advantage is the only option I got.”  
  
“What terror?! This is ridiculous!” Mantis laughs but promptly stops when he spots Ocelot’s smug grin.  
  
“We can stop anytime – you can undo the ties yourself, I am sure.”  
  
Mantis grunts in indignant acknowledgement and squints at the desk lamp-cum-floodlight above him. Budget cuts, figures – people are leaving left and right and everyone is talking about how FOXHOUND has gone to shit since Eli took over, anyway. Of course their financial sources have taken note of that, too.  
  
“What, already too much?” Ocelot lightly pats his cheek. “Stay with me, Mantis.”  
  
Baring his teeth, Mantis wishes he had his mask on, without it he just feels naked and exposed, even if the interrogation chamber’s walls are insulated enough to keep his mind isolated from any intrusive, foreign thoughts and emotions.  
  
Not that Ocelot offers much in that area anyway; no matter how hard Mantis tries, it seems impossible to pick up on the old man’s thoughts – and at this point he actually feels more content _not_ knowing what goes on in that ugly mug.  
  
“So that’s it? You tie me to a chair and dim the lights? Creative.”  
  
Ocelot actually chuckles at that and takes a step back to get a good look at his work.  
  
“Eager to get to the next part, then? Don’t worry, we are just getting started.” Mantis eyes him carefully when he gets closer again. “For now… try moving your arms.”  
  
Mantis does, and – as expected – the rope will not budge in his favour, instead the movement actually somehow tightens the tie around his neck and makes it hard to breathe.  
  
“Always encourage cooperation.” Ocelot says, clearly satisfied with Mantis’ visible frustration. “There are multiple techniques that hold this effect – this being one of my personal favourites; Hojōjutsu, though I assume you are more familiar with the slightly abbreviated form called ‘Kinbaku’”  
  
Feeling hot shame creep up his neck, Mantis tries to turn his head away which only tightens the rope further and forces a choked sound from his throat.  
  
“It is important to remember to work quick and clean; displaying poor skill and sloppy knots or letting your prisoner memorise the technique is considered almost blasphemous.” Picking up the last bit of the length of rope, Ocelot pulls Mantis closer on his chair. “Despite it being so highly effective, the biggest focus of Hojōjutsu is the aesthetic. And I must admit; it _does_ suit you well.  
  
Mantis swallows hard. It is not the fact that he is tied down that makes him uncomfortable, but the possibility of being able to just undo this all with his powers and walking out of here without a scratch. And Ocelot seems to be suspiciously aware of that.

“Sometimes tying a person up for a little while does the job and softens them enough for questioning – but of course we are mostly dealing with prisoners who had at least _some_ kind of military, ah, interrogation resistance training before.” Ocelot watches him carefully and with clear interest painting his features, but Mantis can not take much more of that and finally gives in to close his eyes, admitting defeat to himself.  
  
“We could try out some more techniques if you are willing,” Ocelot suggests and lets his fingers glide smoothly over the end of his rope. “Or we could take a break – you seem quite… affected already.”  
  
Mantis bites his lip – the old bastard is clearly planning something and if he is not, he must be counting on Mantis’ vulnerable maskless state to act in his favour. He reaches out mentally; to his surroundings and whatever parts of Ocelot he can grasp but it is not enough and so Mantis has to trust in whatever leftover power he can muster to move a bit away, out of the old man’s grasp.  
  
“Oh, don’t act all shy now! And do not bother to hide that little snark of yours, it suits you so well after all.” Languidly running his fingers through Mantis’ frizzy hair, Ocelot closes the gap between them swiftly. Mantis shivers slightly at the unwanted touch and regrets not going through with his plans of shaving his head sooner – his hair is getting thin and patchy anyway, even if he himself is to blame for it, mostly for pulling chunks of it out in little fits of rage and despair.  
  
“Fine.” He finally manages to wrangle the words out of his throat and spit them at the old man’s face. “Keep going, better get this over with in one night.”  
  
Ocelot smiles idly and brushes a stray curl from Mantis’ forehead. “So eager… .” He mumbles and Mantis wonders why the fuck he has not been genuinely creeped out until _now_.  
  
Disappearing to is little ‘work station’, Ocelot fetches a metal suitcase and what looks like to be a first-aid kit and Mantis silently curses Liquid for turning him into such a defiant little brat.  
  
“Now, I assume you surely are more intimately familiar with hypnosis than most, but I take it we both have very different approaches to get to the same outcome.”  
  
With a cotton wipe and some disinfectant Ocelot prepares the side of Mantis’ neck carefully whie lifting his hair out of the way with his free hand.  
  
“Now, Mantis – the neck is arguably the most dangerous injection site, since you are playing with such a tightly packed area; arteries, veins, nerves and tendons sit very close together, so you have to pay close attention you do not hit the wrong target.”  
  
Mantis tenses and feels his restraints tighten again in response as Ocelot gets the syringe ready.  
  
“But of course injecting into an artery comes with certain advantages – the chemicals will travel directly into your brain, prompting almost immediate effect. If you ignore the risk of causing a stroke or other neurological problems, of course.”  
  
Holding his breath as Ocelot positions the needle, Mantis can feel little pearls of sweat dancing down his face.  
  
“I am going to inject you with a nice little substance called ‘BZ’, it is commonly known as Buzz, though the Soviets liked to refer to it as ‘Substance 78’ - so perhaps you have come across it before.”  
  
Mantis blinks and tries to avoid Ocelot’s coldly fascinated gaze at all accounts.  
  
“Now, do not worry – this is simply an incapacitating agent, it won’t hurt you in any way, rather it will _keep_ you from inflicting harm on yourself and others –“  
  
“I know what a fucking incapacitating agent is, Ocelot.” Mantis growls and only belatedly realises that the needle is already pressing into his flesh. His voice rises into the hysterics. “Did you just!?– How about a little warning next time, you sick fuck!?”  
  
“I see we are already counting on a next time to happen then.” Ocelot purrs and pulls away to gently wipe the injection site with more disinfectant. “Shh, now calm down and let yourself relax a little – this is not much different from the stuff you usually take anyway.”  
  
He tries to be mad – he really does – but anxiety takes over and Mantis tries to breathe properly, knowing that he has a long night ahead of him.  
  
“… how much is it?” He mumbles and doesn’t dare to look up at Ocelot.  
  
“Oh, don’t worry. I injected you with about _four micrograms._ A smaller dosage than the one I usually administer; despite your height someone of your size probably wouldn’t do well with the regular amount, and taking your slow metabolism in account it will probably even out just fine anyway. Maybe it won’t make a difference to the effects I am used to after all.”  
  
Mantis dares to glare at the old man. “So you’re using me as a human guinea pig?”  
  
Ocelot waves his hand as if that was the most ridiculous idea ever and watches Mantis’ sweaty face carefully, pursing his lips.  
  
“Well I admit, I did take the liberty to… _adjust_ the substance a little to my liking and, well, since I didn’t have the chance to test it out on anyone yet your offer to ‘assist’ me came at a very convenient time.”  
  
“You are aware that if this kills me the boss will skin you and use your wrinkly hide as bedside rug?”  
  
A small chuckle escapes the old man as he unceremoniously walks back to the little desk by his work station and takes seat.  
  
“My, how sentimental. But it will not come to that – I predict that you will have… quiet some time to spend until you get the drug out of your system, but who would I be if I left you all to yourself during those fretful hours?” He smirks and raises his eyebrow. “You already know that the effects of BZ can last for over 3 days, don’t you?”  
  
Mantis just groans and – forgetting about his restraints for a second – tries to shake his head only to have the rope tighten around his neck again. He takes a deep breath and looks down at his feet.  
  
“How long until it hits?”  
  
Ocelot seems occupied by doing paperwork or cleaning his shitty guns or whatever, Mantis can not really make it out from his current position, but neither does he care and tries to focus on the leathery shine of his lace-up boots.  
  
“Shouldn’t take too long now. Be patient, boy.”  
  
Helplessly ignoring the patronising tone of voice, Mantis finds himself drawn in by the physical sensation of the rope pressing down, no, _in_ on him from all sides – a comforting compression and a hint of that underlying threat of even tighter restraints is he not to behave himself.  
  
A bit of sweat drops down from his face onto his lap and slowly nausea settles in, but instead of allowing him to throw up and get a mess all over Ocelot’s pretty rope it is a dry sickness, not granting Mantis any satisfaction except of distracting him from his looming headache.  
  
“Ocel-Ocelot.” He slurs. “You said this room was insulated enough for me not to be affected… .”  
  
“You are fine, Mantis. These are just normal effects, everyone goes through that in their first hour.”  
  
Mantis blinks hard – tries to keep his eyes shut for a bit until a choked sob escapes his lips and he feels that damn rope tighten again thanks to the involuntary twitching of his arms.  
  
He is pretty sure he just waits for his brain to finally stop thumping against the inside of his skull and finally break through bone at this point, but then vaguely notices Ocelot kneeling down in front of him and moving so quickly his eyes can barely keep up.  
  
“When did you get here… ?” Mantis’ voice is heavy and his mouth feels dry and tight.  
  
With a sigh Ocelot rises and leans over him to pull the rest of the restraints off him.  
  
“I’ve been here the entire time, Mantis. Just helping you out a little right now.”  
  
Mantis chortles quietly and raises his aching hand to pet Ocelot’s face – it does feel as rough as it looks, but the man’s moustache is surprisingly soft against the tips of his fingers.  
  
“Thank you-uu.”

Ocelot nods and gently runs his fingers over Mantis' wrists and neck.

“Let's hope this won't bruise too much – I made sure not to tie you up too tightly, but of course you wouldn't hold still... .”

Mantis gladly lets himself be manhandled a little; Ocelot's hands are warm and press down so nicely on his aching joints, it is almost enough to distract him from his lingering nausea.

He can feel himself hum contently, licking up an escapes line of drool running down the corner of his mouth.

“This is really Buzz?” Mantis stumbles over the words and looks down on Ocelot who is currently caressing his thighs. “I feel so – ah, mhmm.”

“Of course it is. Who do you take me for? I wouldn't just inject you with some substance you don’t know about without telling.”  
  
Mantis offers the old man a lopsided smile. “Yes, you would.”  
  
Clicking his tongue in feigned annoyance, Ocelot grabs Mantis by the chin.  
  
“So, tell me then – how _are_ you feeling?”  
  
He takes a moment to think about the question, carefully studying Ocelot’s features. “Ah, bad. But also... good?” Mantis’ tongue is tingling and numb. “As if I have to throw up but it, it just will not work. And warm – my legs hurt though.”  
  
Ocelot’s hand wanders further and Mantis presses his legs together to stop it from advancing.  
  
“What are you… ?” He trails off when the hand quickly bypasses his – admittedly – tired legs and bites his lips when he feels his belt getting undone. “The hell are you– fuck! We are at _work_ , Ocelot, god damnit!”  
  
“Work, huh? That never seemed to stop you before. Care to enlighten me what else you were doing then, in that storage closet with –“  
  
Before he can finish Mantis makes a grab for his dumb sneaky hand and scratches at his arm. “Nothing! Stop it! I’m not, I mean I can’t –“ Ocelot ignores his meagre protests and palms Mantis through the leathery fabric of his pants. “Ah, – my head…. .”  
  
“That is not your head, Mantis.”  
  
A hollow moan escapes his lips. “F-ffuck you.”  
  
“That is what you are here for, isn’t it?” More touching, more pressure – Mantis feels his aching body melt away as his pants get unzipped, his shockingly hard dick drawn out, only now realising the amount of relief it grants him. “One would never guess that you are so… indulgent.”  
  
He watches in horror – eyes wide – as Ocelot mouths at him, slowly dragging his tongue across Mantis’ pained flesh before taking it inside, swallowing him whole. Somehow the old fuck still manages to smile around the dick in his mouth, with that darn ugly moustache tickling Mantis’ oversensitive skin.  
  
After what feels like hours of the most excruciating torture, Ocelot finally pulls off with a wet and very deliberate pop to pet Mantis’ thighs with all of his disgusting false affection.  
  
“Look how easily you can let go – should have the boss see you like this, he would be overjoyed.”  
  
“He isn’t h-here, is he?” Mantis whispers, quietly panicking.  
  
Ocelot eyes him deviously for a bit, leaves him hanging in his anxieties and teases him a bit more, gentle kisses and nibbling all over the side of his cock.  
  
Then finally, when Mantis loses whatever little control he has left and spills all over the old man’s face and hands. He damn nearly passes out after that, but those gloved hands keep plucking at him like a hungry bird, touching him in the most uncomfortable places and Mantis’ face overheats when he more _feels_ than hears a whisper at his ear.  
  
“Don’t worry, I would never invite anyone else… . I suppose it is a bit of a shame, but I just do not like to share.”  
  
"O-Ocelot -"  
  
"Hm?" Ocelot leans up a little and licks at Mantis' lips. "Clean up the mess you made, will you?"  
  
Mantis nods in defeat and dutifully follows command, sucking on Ocelot's fingers quite helplessly, before gasping for air with his mind swimming in confusion.  
  
"Too much? Don't tell me you already want to stop?"  
  
" _No_." Mantis breathes and holding onto his last column of defense he bites at Ocelot's hand - not hard enough for it to hurt but Ocelot's moustache still twitches when Mantis focuses on the old man's face.  
  
Ocelot offers him a gentle smile and pats his cheek. "Very well, just make sure you warn me ahead if you have to throw up, that just would ruin the mood."  
  
He disappears back to his little work-station and Mantis is left behind in that bright light, skin burning, clothes disheveled and hair messy. Barely able to keep his head up, he tries to watch what Ocelot is doing - to no avail - his sight blurs out from time to time and he is pretty sure the lights are flickering violently.   
  
"Look at you," Ocelot purrs and snaps Mantis out of his dissociated state. "Being all nice and docile, I don'T even have to tie you down anymore. Though you like that, don't you?"   
  
Mantis nods meekly.   
  
"Good boy."  
  
When Ocelot grabs his hands to tie them behind his back, Mantis blinks in surprise and lets out a distressed, almost animalistic whine.   
  
"Huh? What's wrong now? Stop fussing." Ocelot chastises and pulls lightly at the rope he has already tied around Mantis' wrists.  
  
Mantis stares down at his hands, eyes wide.   
  
"I'm bleeding." He mumbles and wriggles his bright red fingers before looking up at Ocelot in confusion. "Y-You are too, did I hurt you?" Mantis points at Ocelot's face which only makes the man laugh in return.  
  
"You're not hurt." Ocelot says. "You are _hallucinating_ , idiot."  
  
"I'm not..." Mantis protests but finally lets Ocelot tie his hands behind his backs. He feels elated and starts giggling when Ocelot picks him up easily to carry him over to the table. "I can walk myself you know."  
  
"No, you can't. You're too high, Mantis."  
  
Mantis grunts as he is set down and watches with a pout as Ocelot starts pulling off his pants. "This is un-uncomfortable." He pats the hard wood. "I wanna go to bed."  
  
"Don't have one here, your majesty. You will have to make do with what we got - unless you would prefer I fuck you on the ground."  
  
Mantis grimaces. "We are going to have sex? Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
Ocelot rolls his eyes and lubes up his fingers. "I did. You just forgot about it."  
  
The preparation is slightly intrusive and uncomfortable, but Mantis is very sensitive so every little touch at the _right_ spot leaves him tensing up and moaning. Methodically as always, Ocelot ignores all of his little pleas and whines and mercilessly fingers him until Mantis' dick starts hurting again.  
  
"You're so mean." Mantis complains. "Hurry up!"  
  
"Patience."  
  
Eventually, _finally_ , Ocelot is done and unzips his pants, jerking himself roughly a few times and oh! - Mantis has not even realised that Ocelot also _enjoyed_ this. So the old man is not being nice, simply selfish as always! Mantis huffs.  
  
"Play nice." Ocelot warns him and grabs his thighs painfully hard to pull them apart further. "I have a lot of fun toys here for when people start misbehaving."  
  
Mantis briefly considers acting up and doing just that out of curiosity, but then is caught off guard when suddenly he feels full and stretched, Ocelot close and breathing right into his ear. Unable to help himself, he ends up letting out a few little choked sounds, whimpering against Ocelot's neck.   
  
"You need to relax," Ocelot chuckles and thrusts his hips roughly, causing Mantis to whimper quietly. "See, it'll only hurt like this."  
  
Trying o follow the old man's helpful advice, Mantis goes limp and stares up at the dark ceiling. It certainly _is_ better this way, but also Mantis feels slightly detached from his body, almost as if he is watching himself from an outside perspective. To his surprise this somehow does not keep him from enjoying it.   
  
Ocelot snakes his hand around Mantis' neck to choke him a little. Despite his harsh movements and disregard for Mantis' own pleasure he ends up talking down sweetly to him.   
  
Mantis, of course, knows all these nice things he is being told, after all he is trying very hard to please Ocelot. Because maybe, if he is good enough, Ocelot will grant him release again.   
  
But instead of gentle touches he feel two fingers wrapping around the base off his dick and pressing down hard, almost cutting of circulation.   
  
"Not yet." Ocelot whispers in Mantis' ear wetly. "Not until I am done with you."  
  
Mantis looks up at that still bloodied face, eyes big, feeling the edge of the table digging into the small of his back painfully.   
  
"Please -" He rasps, but Ocelot only spits in his open mouth before kissing him, still tasting of Mantis own come and the slight chemical taste of cocaine.   
  
"D-Do you treat all your prisoners like this?" Mantis chokes against his lips, breaking the kiss. The dissonance between the man's kind and soothing words and his actions clouds Mantis' already messy mind further and he can feel himself slipping - maybe the oxygen deprivation plays part in that too, he at this point he can not bring himself to care enough anymore.  
  
Ocelot grins. "Only if they are as fun to rile up and break apart as you are."  
  
-  
  
On Thursday morning Mantis makes his way to the weekly intelligence meeting only to realise that it is actually already Saturday by reading a random soldier’s mind in passing in the hallway. Of course he tries to stay calm and rationalise this missing time – clearly it must have to do something with Ocelot and the fact that he himself has been pretty out of it for the past few days anyway.  
  
At lunch, blessed be his innocence, Liquid asks him about his bruised neck out of simple curiosity without any ulterior motives. Mantis gets really quiet and mumbles something about an accident, special training and such – deciding to leave it at that.  
  
He shoves his own plate in Liquid’s direction without any further words and watches his beloved boss wolf down the dreadful cafeteria chicken salad, absent-mindedly running his fingers over that damn traitorous bruise while hoping that the next session will _not_ be as visible.  
  
But knowing Ocelot, it probably will be _worse_.


End file.
